


Sinkhole

by jinhwanissi



Category: iKON (Korea Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Bobby is a Literature Major, Childhood Friends, Cute OT7 Party Scenes, Fluffy, Hanbin and His Father's Relationships is Purely Fictional, M/M, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Poetry, Slice of Life, They Talk About Sex a Lot Though Because Have You Met 20 Something Men?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-04 13:04:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11555778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinhwanissi/pseuds/jinhwanissi
Summary: Jiwon is a writer, and Hanbin always seems to find himself as the subject of that writing.Or, the one where Hanbin is Jiwon's greatest muse.





	1. Untruths

Winter is Hanbin’s favorite season, and Jiwon can understand why. It’s midday, but it feels like nighttime, grey clouds stretching across the sky as far as the eye can see. The snow falls in sheets around campus, making everything softer, tamer.

In Jiwon’s mind, Hanbin was sweaters and hot chocolate and too much thinking. Hanbin would become a good poem one day, if Jiwon could ever find the right words to describe him.

He digs a notebook and pen out of his pocket and jots down ‘ _He was a winter storm, the uncontrollable wind freezing the tips of my fingers, wild in a way I could never be.’_ That wasn't right.

Jiwon let his hands go numb as he writes under it, ‘ _He was a winter storm, the peaceful feeling of snow falling from heaven, reminding me that I'm not the only thing that’s drifting away.’_ That didn't quite fit either, but his ears are starting to burn, so he stuffs the book back into his pocket and keeps moving.

As Jiwon begins hiking up the campus hill to the cafe in nothing but a loosely knit sweater, a backpack, and a pair of worn jeans, he decides winter is _not_ his favorite season. By the time he swings open the door of the Daily Grind, he’s pretty sure he has frostbite on his toes.

The shop is quiet for three o’clock on a Friday, but he supposes most people decided that dragging themselves out of bed to trek through five inches of snow was a little ridiculous.

Hell, he would have skipped classes today if Yunhyeong hadn’t shaken him and Jinhwan awake at seven in the morning to watch the snow fall over Seoul together. At least he had softened the blow with ginger tea and a promise to make them both Gopdol Bibimbap tonight.

He orders a hot mocha latte with caramel for Chanwoo, smiling slightly at the look the barista gives him. For Jooeun, a black americano, which garners another disgusted face from the barista, who poorly masks it when she notices Jiwon narrowing his eyes. He requests a matcha green tea latte, like a true literature major. The barista, once again, gives him an incredulous look.

“Well then what do you like!” Jiwon finally says. She looks up and chews the inside of her cheek, her eyes shining with a playful expression.

“That’ll be 18,00 won. Your name is. . .” she trails off to let him finish the sentence for her, a practiced hand poised to write his name on the cups.

He fishes the money out of his pocket and slides it across the table before answering.

“Jiwon. You didn't answer my question. If you think all the drinks I ordered are so nasty, what do you drink?” he demands. He can feel a smile slip onto his face. She jots the name down on the cups and looks up, blushing a little. Pretty.

“A venti mint-caramel-mocha frappuccino with cinnamon and nutmeg, no whipped cream,” she spits it out so fast Jiwon almost doesn't catch it all. Jiwon tries an exaggerated expression of horror, clutching his chest and squeezing his eyes shut.

“You have no right to judge _any_ of the drinks I just ordered,” he calls after her as she begins to prepare his order.

“What’s your name, I want to complain to the manager,” he jokes, resting his head on the interlaced fingers he’s propped up on the pickup counter.

“Hirai Momo,” she answers without turning to look at him, moving around behind the counter with lightning speed. Jiwon almost believes her for a second before he places the name.

“Sure. Let me guess, you sing, dance, and do unbearable amounts of aegyo,” Jiwon shoots back, trying to keep up with her quick wit. She laughs, and it sounds like bells.

“You've got me,” she concedes. “It’s Son Minjee, but my friends call me Minnie sometimes. I answer to both. I'm a second year nursing major.”

“I have a friend who’s a nursing major, Jung Chanwoo. He’s the one who wanted _that,”_ he says, gesturing to the mocha latte Minjee sets on the counter in front of him.

“Yeah, I've seen him around. Brown hair probably a little darker than yours, tall, big eyes, kinda cute?” she says as she finishes the last of Jiwon’s drinks, sliding them toward him. It sounded enough like Chanwoo.

“Are you avoiding mentioning his giant chubby cheeks to be polite or did you just never notice them?” He asks as he gathers the cups into his hands. A voice from behind him makes him jump, sloshing a little bit of someone’s latte onto his sweater.

“Ah hyung, are you making fun of me again?” Chanwoo says, plucking his drink out of Jiwon’s grip and looking up at Minjee. She wipes her hands on her apron casually, studying Chanwoo’s face.

“I guess he does have chubby cheeks. He’s still cute,” she decides. Chanwoo blushes at that.

“Thank you,” he says with a bashful smile and tugs Jiwon to a table where Jooeun is sitting on her phone with her thick winter boots on the table.

The second they’re out of earshot, Chanwoo digs his nails into Jiwon’s forearm. “Do you have to talk about my cheeks in front of strangers,” he hisses. Jooeun looks up from her phone at that, interest piqued.

Chanwoo had met Jooeun a month or two ago in one of his classes. Jooeun is a first year undetermined with a knack for digital design.

She’s a no-nonsense type of girl, with piercing eyes and long hair always pulled back into a high ponytail. They had become good friends and Jiwon is glad Chanwoo was brave enough to venture outside of their little seven person group, something Jiwon has yet to do.

“I do. And she’s not a stranger, she’s in your major. You’ve met before.” The look on Chanwoo’s face says he doesn't care.

“Whatever. Did you check the group chat?” He sits down and changes the subject, sucking down half of his latte in one go. Jooeun watches him and winces.

“No,” Jiwon says, already digging out his phone.

 _18 Unread Messages from_ **_A Junhwe a Day Keeps the People Away_ **

Jinhwan: I just got my hands on some Quality Shit™ from a friend and Yunnie said he’d make Gopdol Bibimbap for us so who’s down to par-tay?

Chanwoo: Don't say p*r-t*y dad it’s embarrassing.

Yunhyeong: Nnnnnno that is not what I said Kim Jinhwan. I said I’d make it for two people. Two.

Jinhwan: Yeah I know. It was a remixed version of what you said.

Hanbin: I am NOT going to your apartment today. You guys are so goddamn stingy with the heat I got pnEUMONIA last time.

Junhwe: Lol remixed.

Donghyuk: For the last time it wasn’t pneumonia.

Hanbin: I almost died. It’s not a joking matter, Donghyuk.

Junhwe: It was a mild cold. You had a mild cold that lasted two days.

Hanbin: Died.

Junhwe: But really guys I'm not coming if y'all don't start cranking up that heat to above 40 degrees at least.

Yunhyeong: Fine, brat. We actually have to pay for heat unlike you spoiled underclassmen.

Chanwoo: Never shoulda moved out of the dorms then.

Donghyuk: I have like two gallons of stuff I need to get out of my dorm room so that’s fine with me. 6 for dinner?

Junhwe: YOU FUCKING. YOU LIED.

Donghyuk: Omg are you serious? I saved you from a massive hangover. You were already fifteen shots deep and trying to stick your tongue down the kitchen drain. You owe me your life.

Yunhyeong: Whatever. I’ll cook for you dramatic fucks.

Hanbin: Yesss. Bap?

Jiwon: I'm down.

He slips his phone back into the pocket of his jeans and produces three notebooks from his backpack. Jooeun pulls out a computer and a beat sketchbook.

Chanwoo digs around in his bag for a couple minutes before slapping a bunch of crumpled looseleafs on the table. Jooeun and Jiwon both groan, which Chanwoo conveniently ignores.

“Okay, here’s what I'm thinking: In a Breath: a collection of photographs and poems by Jung Chanwoo and Kim Jiwon,” Jooeun says, making a marquee with her hands.

Chanwoo taps a pencil onto his papers in a steady rhythm. “I like it,” he says, jotting it down on the corner of one of the papers.

They're all filled with rushed sketches of figures at windows and chain link fences in odd clothing, the drawings focusing on faces and light sources.

“Well, what is it we’re trying to capture?” Jiwon finally weighs in, opening up one of his notebooks to a rushed stanza about Donghyuk in springtime.

“Most of the stuff I have is about us. Our story. The seven of us, in our most human moments,” Jiwon rambles, flipping through page after page of half finished poems.

“Okay. A lot of the pictures I want to include kind of corresponds with that. It’s like. . . Yun wearing those stupid glasses, and Junhwe waking up hungover in your bathtub. Or this one picture Dong got of me lying on Hanbin’s bed. Things like that. The rest I'm going to have to hold a shoot for but I think I have a good start,” Chanwoo says.

“So you’re trying to capture the feeling of being kids. Both of you,” Jooeun weighs in.

Jiwon hadn’t realized that she’d inched closer to him to read over his shoulder. He tries not to be uncomfortable. This is going to be his final project, after all. His whole class is going to read these.

Jooeun picks a stanza scrawled in purple pen, “Look at this one, ‘Do you remember how it felt to love each other when we were young? It was so easy then. The world has gotten messier, everything clouding my vision, but I’ve always seen you so clearly.’”

Chanwoo leans back in his chair, stretching. “Damn. I mean, I know you can write, but. . . ” He doesn't finish the sentence.

“Ex-girlfriend?” Jooeun asks softly, afraid to strike a nerve.

Jiwon shakes his head. “Best friend.”

The three of them go on like that for a while, Chanwoo producing sketches from the words Jooeun and Jiwon pick out from his books.

After an hour, they disperse. Jooeun has an afternoon class to get to and Yunhyeong asked them to go grocery shopping.

“Wait, let me swing by the dorm to grab some things,” Chanwoo says, shifting to relax the arm that’s carrying two full grocery bags.

When the elevator opens to the third floor, Jiwon almost has a heart attack. Junhwe is staring them right in the face, looking as surprised as Jiwon feels.

“Oh! Hey, I was just heading out.” He’s got a backpack on, and when he moves a little Jiwon can hear the clinking of bottles inside.

“You need to pad that better,” Chanwoo says and sidesteps him to make his way down the hall.

The Maknae dorm is a double. Two rooms are attached by a living room and a kitchenette. The common area is suspiciously tidy, old movies stacked neat and laundry folded on the floor behind the couch. They set the groceries on the coffee table.

Chanwoo detours to Donghyuk and Junhwe’s room, where Dong is rummaging around and muttering to himself.

Their room is always relatively clean because Donghyuk would have an aneurysm if it were any other way. The shelves above both of their unmade beds are full of books, the windowsill filled with little cactus plants.

Posters of musical artists and blown up pictures Chanwoo has taken litter the walls. The closet is overflowing with clothes, though. And Donghyuk had clearly lost some type of argument, because there’s a hideous fuzzy blue rug in the middle of the room that screams Koo Junhwe.

“Are you gonna be ready to go in a minute?” Chanwoo asked, rapping on the doorframe belatedly.

“Mm,” is the only response they get as Donghyuk opens drawers underneath his bed, shutting each with a disheartened slam.

Chanwoo accepts this and goes to his and Hanbin’s room, which is infinitely more messy.

Chanwoo’s duvet is on the floor, and there’s a slew of photographs on top of it. The chair in the corner is piled high with clothes, and there’s a pair of women’s panties on the doorknob that Jiwon pretends not to notice.

On Hanbin’s side, there’s a whiteboard with dates and reminders as well as a beat up movie poster that he’s had since he was a kid. Hanbin is lazing on his bed in Jiwon’s old sweatshirt.

Chanwoo’s side is completely covered in pictures, pictures of flowers and buildings and his friends. Despite the mess, it’s almost calming to look at the collage plastered to the wall, but he’d rather look at Hanbin.

Jiwon flops on the bed next to Hanbin while Chanwoo looks for alcohol. He snuggles up to him, tucking his face into the younger boy’s neck.

“Hey, stop that,” he whines. He squirms but doesn't make a move to push Jiwon off.

“How was your day?” Hanbin asks, tapping his fingers on the arm Jiwon has slung over his waist. The touches were so casual, so natural to them after being friends for seven years.

“It was good. Chanu and I got a lot done with the photobook thing, and I met a girl.” Hanbin’s fingers still. “It’s not like we exchanged numbers or anything, but she was cute and fun to talk to,” Jiwon says, pressing his hand into Hanbin’s soft stomach.

“That’s. . . nice,” Hanbin says awkwardly. Carefully. Jiwon sits up at that, so fast Chanwoo looks up from where his head is stuck in a hamper. Judging by the amount of clothes scattered around the room, Jiwon wouldn't have thought they had a hamper.

“What?”

“Nothing. I'm happy for you,” he says, the casual tone returning to his voice.

“We’re not gonna get married, Bin. You know I'm not really the commitment type anyway,” he says. Hanbin laughs.

Chanwoo finishes zipping a duffle bag. “Ready? Also, can you give Jiwon a coat, Hanbin?” He asks, glancing between him and Hanbin.

“Yeah, there’s one right there on the bedpost. Let me pull on some pants,” Hanbin replies, jumping off the bed and searching the floor. Jiwon takes the coat and steps out of the room to help Chanwoo with the groceries.

“What was that about?” Chanwoo asks, once they're in the common room. His his eyes are wide and curious. Jiwon isn’t sure. Usually, Hanbin is like an open book, easy to read. He decides to play dumb.

“What do you mean?” He says, fiddling with the paper handles of the grocery bag in his hand.

“You know what I'm talking about hyung. Why was he so tense about you meeting Minjee?” He demands quietly. Jiwon watches him shift his stance to shoulder the duffle bag instead of answering.

Finally, “I don't know. He’s probably just surprised. I haven't really been interested in a girl for a while.” Chanwoo raises his eyebrows skeptically. “Not that I'm _interested,_ per se,” Jiwon clarifies quickly.

“You had no problem being _interested_ in that red haired girl that stole your nice jacket,” Chanwoo teases with an expectant smile on his face. Donghyuk laughs and tries to cover it up with a cough.

“Or the girl that tried to choke you,” Hanbin says from behind them.

Donghyuk jumps in at that, “Didn't she cry when you told her you weren't into it?” They start down the hall together.

She did. She started crying with Jiwon’s dick still in her, and he had been genuinely terrified for a second that he had hurt the girl before she stormed out shouting about him leading her on. It was a really weird night.

“You two,” he says, pointing at Chanwoo and Hanbin, “Should not be bashing me for my sexual encounters when women’s panties are hung over your fucking _door knob.”_

Some poor first year gives their group a judgemental look as they step into the elevator, which Jiwon ignores. Sex is a natural thing for people to enjoy, especially when they're all young kids in the prime of their lives. He's not about to start feeling guilty about it.

Hanbin gives Chanwoo a reprimanding look, which makes him blush a little. It could be the lights in the lobby, though. Donghyuk just laughs, enjoying his friend’s embarrassment.

By the time they arrive at the apartment, they’re all practically frozen over. Jiwon’s hands are so cold and cramped from carrying the groceries for three blocks that he can’t get the key into the slot. Donghyuk takes it from him with warm hands and opens the door. Chanwoo all but sobs with relief at the rush of warm air that greets them.

Jinhwan jumps up from the counter where he’s chatting with Junhwe to help with all the bags. “Hey, it’s a cold one out there, huh?” he says, his eyes shining.

“Fuck you,” Jiwon retorts and shoves the food into his arms before collapsing on the couch.

Hanbin disappears into Jiwon and Yunhyeong’s shared room and emerges with three blankets and a big sweater.

He throws it all at Jiwon who unzips the coat and lets it hit the floor with a splat, soaked from the snowfall. Hanbin watches him strip off his old jumper in favor of the one that had been thrown at him.

“You need to start wearing appropriate winter clothing,” Hanbin says, kicking him slightly.

“I know,” Jiwon says, distracted by the pink tip of Hanbin’s nose.

“Gosh, do any of you guys own hats?” Yunhyeong says from the kitchen, already bustling around. Donghyuk is sat at the island and has somehow roped Junhwe into holding his warm hands over his red ears.

“Well I know that you steal all of mine,” Jinhwan says with a pointed look that’s lost on Yunhyeong, who has his back turned.

“Now that I have the rest of the ingredients, dinner will be ready in five minutes,” Yunhyeong announces.

Jiwon rouses himself to set the table, glancing around the room. Their flat is small. The kitchen, the living room, and the dining room are all in the same space.

The kitchen opens up to a small seating area with a tv and a couch that Yunhyeong had insisted they lug up four flights of stairs. The coffee table was really just a wooden chest that Jinhwan stored holiday decorations in, and the grey rug was so old that no amount of washing would restore it to it’s original white.

The table was shoved inconveniently close to the back of the couch, and it was barely big enough to fit all seven of them. Chanwoo had spent a full day pulling pictures of them from his archive to print and hang on the walls, and Junhwe had gifted them three small succulents when they moved in over the summer. It was small, but it was cozy, and it was where Jinhwan and Yunhyeong were at the end of the day.

“Hey.” Someone snaps their fingers in front of his face, startling him. Hanbin raises his eyebrows. “You zoned out again. What’s got you in outer space?”

Jiwon watches his friends set up dinner, bickering with each other and smiling so easily. “Just that this is home. You guys are home,” Jiwon says, and he would have regretted the sentiment if not for the look Hanbin gives him.

His eyes soften and an unconscious smile quirks up the corner of his mouth. Jiwon reaches up to brush the hair out of his best friend’s eyes. There’s no need for regret when he’s with Hanbin.


	2. Anybody

Jiwon loves his friends. He really does. Especially when there’s a rush of alcohol heating his blood and Hanbin pressed against his side. His legs are daringly splayed across Junhwe’s lap, and it’s only a matter of time before he gets irritated enough with Hanbin’s restlessness and kicks him off the couch. But until then, Jiwon soaks in Hanbin's warmth, letting his best friend tuck his face into his shoulder.

They're all lounging in the seating area, and whoever has their phone plugged into the speaker is playing some strange type of american music. Someone has cleared the coffee table to make space for an excessive amount of alcohol, more than necessary for seven people.

Jiwon attributes it to the fact that Hanbin finally found it within himself to go to the store and buy six bottles of tequila. Hanbin’s not much of a drinker, but there are some weeks where all of his self discipline flies out the window. These weeks usually coincide with passive aggressive interactions with his father, when the pressure of a successful heir to the family company settles it’s weight on Hanbin’s shoulders.

He shakes his head and reaches for his daquiri that Donghyuk mixed for him. Jinhwan’s ‘good shit’ was really a huge tub of frozen daiquiri mix; Jiwon had chugged a full cup of it straight from the bucket without shame (even when Hanbin had given him one of his infamous looks).

Jinan is currently asking entirely too personal questions, and everybody answers with entirely too much detail, flushed cheeks and bloodshot eyes shining. They play drinking games occasionally, but it’s mostly just a nice way to unwind after a long week and an excuse spend time learning things about your friends that nobody ever wanted to know.

“I don't think I could ever get a tattoo,” Chanwoo says, half to himself. He’s looking into the bottom of his cup with his eyes glazed over, like he’s scrying.

“Or a piercing. Imagine puncturing a hole in this,” he gestures vaguely to himself, alcohol sloshing dangerously close to the edge of the cup. “Imagine tainting all this caramel skin.”

Yunhyeong snickers and retorts, “Oh I'm thinking about it, all right.” Hanbin laughs at the joke a little too late, his brain sluggish from the glasses of whiskey that he all but inhaled.

Jiwon reaches for the lemonade on the table and pours a little more mixer into his cup, taking a tentative sip to which he promptly chokes on when Junhwe says out of nowhere, “I think I want to get my nipples pierced.”

Hanbin jolts so hard that his heels dig into Junhwe’s crotch, eliciting a half scream half groan from Junhwe as he hunches over in pain. Chanwoo gets up off the floor from where he’s stationed between Jiwon’s legs to pound his chest, trying to help with the coughing fit Jiwon has thrown himself into.

“Oh my god, Han,” Junhwe grits out, sucking in a shaky breath.

Donghyuk reaches over from his chair and pushes Junhwe back against the couch with one hand, clumsily ripping his shirt up to expose his chest.

He then stares at his nipples like they might do something, squints and tilts his head a little. Junhwe hastily slaps Donghyuk’s hand away, his cheeks tinged pink.

“What the fuck?” Jinhwan moans with feeling. Chanwoo leans forward so far that his head thunks against the table, unable to say a word.

“Just think once before you speak,” Hanbin pleads, a desperate tone in his voice.

“Am I turned on or downright disgusted?” Yunhyeong asks, mystified. When no one answers, he twists from his place in front of Jinhwan’s chair to look at him.

“Jinannie, am I turned on or disgusted?”

Jinhwan takes a long look at Yunhyeong before saying, “You can be both, yeobo.” He unfolds his legs to kick his head softly. Donghyuk cracks a wide grin at the word yeobo.

“I'll drink to that,” Jiwon says, lifting his cup.

“I have a question,” says Donghyuk, ever the opportunist. “Who would you most likely date out of all of us?”

Junhwe doesn't even hesitate, just says “Dongie” with a tone of finality before taking another sip of whatever the hell he’s got in his cup.

Junhwe has a penchant for mixing everything available into one cup and drinking it with absolutely no complaints. Nobody else can stomach more than a sip of his concoction, and Jiwon gets the feeling that it’s a safety measure to ensure nobody else drinks from his cup.

“Yun, you would cook and clean for me, like a true trophy wife,” Jinhwan decides after a beat of silence.

Yunhyeong grunts in acknowledgement. “Sure, as long as you keep laughing at my jokes and eating the leftovers nobody else wants.” The two share a smile and Jiwon looks away, the moment too private for prying eyes.

“Oh yeah, we’re all surprised. As if you didn’t just call him yeobo without batting an eye,” Junhwe snorts. They look away, and Jiwon watches the dimmed lights elongate the shadows of Jinhwan’s eyelashes until they scrape his cheeks.

Chanwoo, who looks like he’s been weighing the pros and cons pretty heavily, says, “Jiwon. He’d treat me right.” Jiwon whips his head up, flattered despite himself. “Hyung, you would treat me right. Plus I figure the sex would be pretty good.”

Hanbin jerks at that, drawing attention from Yunhyeong. “What about you, Hannie? Up for marrying Jiwon?” He needles, shifting to lean closer to Habin as if they’re about to share a secret.

“What?” Hanbin says a little too loudly, his neck flushing a pretty pink color.

Jiwon reaches out to touch a thin vein in Hanbin’s neck, not quite processing the conversation. The veins on Hanbin’s skin look like rivers, and Jiwon wants float through his bloodstream.

( _You flow between my fingers,_

_a current I can't quite follow.)_

“No! I would rather marry anybody other than Jiwon, are you kidding?” Jiwon draws his hand back like he’d been slapped. He feels like he’s been slapped. Nobody moves, everyone watching them with varying levels of disbelief.

Jiwon tries to locate the source of his bone-deep discomfort. It’s not the prospect of Hanbin not wanting wanting him, no. Maybe it’s just the feeling of not being good enough, a feeling that had made a home for itself inside Jiwon for years.

It’s a feeling he hasn’t felt for a long time, sated by the knowledge that he’s making a life for himself here, making something out of the nothing he had come from.

Junhwe sets down a bottle and sits up a little straighter, gauging the situation with prying eyes.

He’s always been good at that, taking people apart and reorganizing them into an image that fits better; secrets bared like flesh ripped open to reveal the muscle underneath. Jiwon always feels like he’s being dissected when Junhwe looks at him like this. It makes his skin crawl.

“Hanbin, we’re not saying it’s actually going to happen, calm down,” Donghyuk has his best placating smile on, lifting a glass to his lips in a suspiciously casual way.

“I'm calm,” he grumbles, shifting. He’s clearly not quite comfortable with settling back into Jiwon’s shoulder.

He gets up and goes to the kitchen to open the fridge, and even with a couple of drinks making his synapses fire sluggishly, Jiwon knows his best friend like the back of his hand.

Hanbin is storming around because he’s trying to compensate for something. For what, Jiwon dosen’t know. Jinhwan might know something judging by the pitying look he shoots at Jiwon, the weight of it heavy on his chest.

It’s also possible that the resident criminology major knows something with the analytical gaze Junhwe’s settled on Hanbin, swirling a drink in one hand and tapping out a rhythm onto the vinyl of the couch with the other.

Chanwoo quickly salvages the conversation with an odd comment about a bondage kink Jooeun is exploring, which elicits horrified shouts from half of them and poorly concealed interest from Jinhwan, Donghyuk, and Yunhyeong.

Chanwoo laughs at Hanbin’s twisted expression from the kitchen. “She says her boyfriend actually quite likes it,” Chanwoo says smugly, swishing something in his mouth.

“Okay, Chanu. I'll bite. Does she get tied up or does Kuanli get tied up?” Junhwe says, leaning back in his chair and raising two perfectly groomed eyebrows.

“Not sure. Both, I guess?” he says, considering. “I’ll ask her next time we talk.”

Hanbin looks alarmed for the thousandth time tonight. He sits back down on the couch, cautiously distancing himself from Jiwon a bit. “Don't ask her that!”

“She’s not like you, hyung. Don't worry about it,” he says with a careless wave of his hand.

“What’s that supposed to mean, ‘she's not like me’?” Hanbin demands, nestling into Jiwon’s shoulder, caution forgotten.

“You know. . . Jooeun isn't very. . .” he trails off, looking at Jinhwan desperately for help.

“He’s saying that she’s not uncomfortable with the mere idea of sex like you are,” Jinhwan says flatly, too drunk to sugarcoat anything.

This comment, despite being true, elicits a series of angry rebuttals from a flustered Hanbin.

He’s so loud that Jiwon almost misses it when Yunhyeong mumbles half to himself, “I always thought men in lingerie was interesting.”

Jiwon’s fucked up brain tries to process what Yun just said, it really does. But, Hanbin is whining again and Chanwoo is cackling, and the steady beat Junhwe has been tapping on the armrest distracts him.

“I'm not a prude, guys,” Hanbin whines, looking around for support.

“Oh my god, Hanbin,” Junhwe groans, throwing his head back onto the leather. They drop the conversation before Junhwe gets too annoyed and Hanbin gets too upset.

Donghyuk sighs deeply, like he knows what he’s going to say will have consequences in the morning.

“I'm thinking of going to see Jia this weekend,” he slurs.

“No.” Jinhwan says flatly, unwrapping a finger from his glass to point it at Donghyuk.

“I feel like I should call her. It’s her birthday tomorrow,” he says, playing with his fingers.

“Hell no, what the fuck?” Jiwon shouts, just as Chanwoo yells, “Don't you dare. She dumped you.”

“Two years ago,” Yunhyeong adds emotionlessly.

“She probably wouldn't have cared if you died in a ditch, honestly,” Hanbin offers with a moody tone, ego still bruised from their previous topic of conversation.

“Did you know she texted me a month ago? Said she was sorry for the way things ended before I left,” he says, not meeting anyone's eyes.

Junhwe sets his glass down on the table and leans forward, ready to dish out some therapeutic advice.

“She’s probably lying. Why would she text you two years later if she really meant it? I know it made you uncomfortable that you never got to be friends again after the breakup—”

“I never said that,” Donghyuk splutters.

“You didn't have to. You like knowing that things weren't your fault, you like the confirmation that it was the right decision. I know you.” Junhwe knows all of them a little too well.

“I just— I thought we had everything figured out. Sure, she was younger, but what’s a couple years long distance?” he demands. Yun offers a sympathetic nod and takes a swig of rum straight from the bottle, only half listening.

“She told me that when she graduated she wanted to go to a school in Seoul so we could be together. Guess where she applied?” Nobody answers, letting Donghyuk vent it out a little.

Or maybe no one cares. Nobody likes Jia. Chanwoo was the only one that had ever met her, and Donghyuk didn’t bring her up a lot, but it was an unspoken agreement that they all decided not to like her.

“She applied for a college in Taiwan. So much for Seoul, right?” Chanwoo grabs a bottle from the table and unscrews it, pouring some more into Dongie’s cup with startling precision for a drunk man.

“You're not calling her,” Jiwon says flatly. There’s no way he’s letting him do this. “She literally broke things off with you in an airport, two hours before you left to go to your dream school to pursue your dream job. I don't know about you, but where I come from, that’s shitty.”

“You need to be over her. You haven't spoken in two years, and you're not the person you used to be,” Hanbin says softly.

“You honestly just need to get back out there,” Chanwoo drawls apathetically.

“I get out there every once in awhile, I'm not like—”

“Meaningless hookups are doing nothing for you,” Jinhwan cuts in before yawning. “You need to meet someone. Sit down, date, talk to someone sober. When did you last do that?”

Donghyuk opens his mouth to interject again and Jinhwan shushes him.

“Don't answer that, it’ll just depress all of us,” he snips. He makes an effort to stand up, brushing off his sweatpants and stretching.

“And what if I'm not ready?” Donghyuk whines, setting his glass down on the table.

“Just try it,” Jinhwan says, stacking the empty cups from the table and setting them in the kitchen sink. Chanwoo scrambles to help his elder, collecting empty cans to put in the recycling.

Yunhyeong tucks leftover bottles under his arm and wobbles over to the kitchen cabinets. “We’re— I'm going to bed. You all know where the pillows are. Just crash where you want.”

He disappears down the hall to Jinhwan’s room, probably to grab something. The rest of them dissapear to the storage closet to get extra pillows and blankets. Jiwon gets up and stretches his back, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Bobby,” Jiwon cracks an eye open to see Hanbin standing in front of him with huge black eyes. Jiwon thinks that galaxies start and stop in those eyes.

“I'm sorry. About what I. . .” Hanbin stops. He shakes his head as if to clear it, then says tentatively, “Nevermind.”

Jiwon holds out his hand and Hanbin takes it after a moment. He looks up, studying Jiwon’s face, and he takes the opportunity to do the same.

Hanbin has always been beautiful, high cheekbones and soft lips accentuating the delicate curve of his nose.

Jiwon can't stop thinking that Hanbin has milky ways in his eyes when the light reflects off of them. He looks away.


	3. Club

 

Jiwon can't remember the last time it was this hard to focus. Chinese Literature sounded like a good idea in theory, but is proving to be a bad idea in execution. Professor Li stands at the front of the classroom, seemingly unaware that half the students are dozing off in their seats, enthusiastically lecturing about tales from the Han Dynasty.

“The folk tale we are focusing on in this section is called _The Passion of the Cut Sleeve,_ a phrase often associated with homesexuality in China.”

Jiwon shifts in his seat, glancing around the room. Nobody is looking at him, but Jiwon is surprised by his own discomfort.

“Often times we think that themes like sexual preference,” Professor Li pauses and waits for someone’s snickering to stop, “. . .female sexuality, and democracy are relatively new, but folktales and historical records show that these are not alien to humanity.” He looks meaningfully in the direction of the laughter.

“In fact, records from Sima Qian and Ban Gu show that ten of the rulers of China during the Han Dynasty were known to keep lovers of the same sex. While the trend of homosexuality was not uncommon in the Han Dynasty, the Passion of the Cut Sleeve remains infamous to this day.” Jiwon watches him write the word THEMES on the whiteboard in capital letters.

Professor Li turns back to the class and crosses his arms, “While you read, try to identify why this may be.”

And so Jiwon flips open his textbook and reads.

Emperor Ai of Han falls asleep with his lover Dong Xian in the parlor on a sunny afternoon. Ai has to leave for a meeting, but Dong Xian’s head is resting on Emperor Ai’s sleeve, and rather than wake him, Ai calls for a knife and cuts off the sleeve of his robe.

The story is sweet.

Professor Li slams his hand on the desk after a few minutes.

“So! Themes!” He yells. He points to a boy in the middle row with a whiteboard marker.

“Gunhoe, what was one of the themes in this tale?”

“Um. . . don't fall asleep on your boyfriend’s butterfly sleeve?” Gunhoe says, adjusting his glasses. Jiwon rolls his eyes. Everyone here is so dumb.

Professor Li just purses his lip and moves on to someone else. “Ye-seul! Answer my question,” he demands.

“I don't know. I thought it was a little bit demanding. I don't know,” she says again, “It felt like it was made up. Maybe to prove some dumb point, that gay isn’t evil.”

Li looks at her flatly then says, “You are not going to do very well in this class—or life—with that fixed mindset. Moving on.” Li’s gaze swept across the room. Jiwon sinks down in his chair.

“Jiwon, tell me what this folk tale is all about. What is the take-away?” Professor Li looks at him with piercing eyes.

“I don't know.” Jiwon offers. Professor Li shakes his head slightly. “Okay. It felt like. . . this was not a folk tale about the sexuality of the two characters.”

“Yes, someone gets it right,” Li says as he scribbles SEXUALITY on the board and crosses it out. “Jiwon said it: _The Passion of the Cut Sleeve_ does not focus on the oppression, dehumanization, or the struggles of being a gay man, as one might expect from ancient _and_ modern stories about queer men and women. So, Jiwon, what does it focus on?”

He can feel his face heating up as he opens his mouth to speak, “This is about small sacrifices we make for our soulmates.” Jiwon unclenches his fist, not realizing he had done so in the first place, and takes a deep breath.

“This is about the tenderness of love.”

“Yes! Amazing, Jiwon!” Professor Li jots down SACRIFICES FOR LOVE and  PASSION AND HONESTY.

“Think about the importance of these themes when you write your five page chapter project. I would like you to reflect on the themes in _The Passion of the Cut Sleeve_ and relate them to your life or current events. Have a great weekend, class. Don't do anything I wouldn't do.”

Professor Li makes a shooing motion with his hand as half the class flies out of the lecture hall. Jiwon shuts his laptop and packs his book into his backpack.

Li watches them go, then faces Jiwon and says, “Kim Jiwon, come here.”

Jiwon lays his head down on the desk for a moment and heaves himself up from his chair, approaching Li warily.

Li slides a paper across the table to Jiwon. He picks it up and squints, a 65% circled at the top. This is the third poor mark he’s received this quarter. Jiwon sighs and slides it right back, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

“Great work today, Jiwon. But these essays. . . I don't want to see you sell yourself short,” Li says, leaning across his table with a searching expression on his face. Jiwon gulps.

“I'm not, sir,” Jiwon says earnestly, if not nervously.

“I hope not. I know that I grade you a lot harder than most of your classmates, but that is because I hold you to a higher standard than others.”  Li adjusts his footing and pushes his glasses up his nose, waiting for a reaction from Jiwon.

“Why?” Jiwon asks faintly. “I don't— there’s no reason to. . .”

“I see what you can become. I know that you are something special, and you _cannot_ keep giving me half-baked essays with underdeveloped and unoriginal ideas. This,” he gestures vaguely to the essay on the table, “is not who you are. If you want to pass this class, you need to step it up and take a risk. And this chapter project is a good way to do that.” Li takes a deep breath and tugs the collar of his shirt.

Jiwon stands there awkwardly, trying to soak in what Professor Li has just said.

“You may leave, Jiwon.” Professor Li turns away from him. Jiwon grits his teeth and turns on his heel toward the door.

For the rest of the day, Jiwon tries to figure out why he is so unnerved by the conversation he and Professor Li had.

Jiwon had not gotten into one of the top colleges in Korea on a scholarship by accident. There was no such thing as luck. Luck was an attractive lie that shrouded the blood, the tears, the sleepless nights and the relentless hum of _you're not good enough_ in the back of his head.

He had worked tirelessly for everything he had ever achieved. He could not afford to take risks. If a risk paid off, you were lucky. And for people like Jiwon, there is no such thing as luck.

( _God gives weight to those who can bear it._

_My faith shakes, and I fear he has chosen wrong.)_

He sighs and rolls over in Hanbin’s bed, his feet poking out of his best friend’s ratty grey duvet. It smells like something nostalgic, dryer sheets and old wood. Jiwon has the urge to stretch out, but he can't bring himself to occupy the left side of the bed. That’s the side Hanbin likes to sleep on.

There are two things Jiwon hates about Friday nights. Jinhwan kicks him out of the apartment, leaving him to either wander the streets of downtown or to hang out in the _Maknaes’_ dorm. Hanbin and Yunhyeong also mysteriously disappear, which means Jiwon can sleep in Hanbin’s bed, but it’s almost a moot point of Hanbin isn’t in it.

Jiwon gets up and raps on Donghyuk’s door. Junhwe swings it open wide, his shirtlessness exposing his creamy skin and the faint definition of his hipbones.

Junhwe coughs, and his head snaps up to look at the younger.

“Oh. Uh, I was just gonna go into town and I was wondering if any of you wanted to join.”

“Well, I have a paper due at midnight, but Dongie isn't doing anything,” Junhwe offers. He turns and sits back on the bed with his laptop and buries himself in work. Jiwon leans on the doorframe and picks at the threads of his ripped jeans.

“Oh yeah, I’d love to go out. You can borrow a sweater from Jun since you didn’t learn your lesson about hypothermia the last time you went outside,” Donghyuk trifles through a few drawers before producing a light pink jumper, “Wear this. We can go to a few bars downtown for a while.”

He shucks the tee shirt he’s wearing now for the jumper. It is soft and smells like Jun, although a little oversized. Donghyuk shimmies into skinny jeans and buttons up a collared shirt. He offers Jiwon cologne, which he dutifully applies before disappearing down the hall to collect his jacket and face mask.

They arrive at their favorite haunt, which is packed with bodies. There are no seats at the bar, and there are few high tops left. Donghyuk snags a table quickly and Jiwon makes a beeline to the bar to see an old friend. He squeezes past bodies and elbows his way to the front, leaning over the counter.

Minh is at the other end of the bar in a perfectly pressed white button up, pouring someone a drink. Jiwon watches his eyes crinkle as he smiles and pockets a tip, bowing slightly. When he turns, Minh catches his eye and speeds over, picking up a bottle as he goes.

“Kimji, it’s been too long!” he exclaims as he begins to pour a strawberry daiquiri. “What makes you think you can stay away from me for this long?”

Jiwon grins guilty. “Sorry man, been really busy. Dongie’s here too.” Minh looks over at the table Dongie occupies, and raises his eyebrows.

“And with some company. Let me pour some mojitos, get you a little feminine attention, yeah?” Jiwon peeks behind him. Donghyuk is talking to two short haired girls who are using overenthusiastic hand gestures. He bites his lip.

Minh slides a tray across to him and plucks the money out of Jiwon’s hand with a wink.

As he approaches, Donghyuk perks up. “Jiwon, this is Jisu and Hyun, they to USU.” Jiwon smiles nervously as Hyun continues to talk to Dongie.

“So Jisu, what do you major in?”

“I'm a third year business major,” She says as Jiwon slides into the seat next to her and offers the mojito Minh had made.

“Oh, my friend Hanbin is a business major. I'm in my third year of Lit.” She shifts forward. Jiwon can't tell if she’s interested or not.

“Really? What field do you plan to go in after college?” Jisu takes a sip of the drink and flashes a flirty smile.

“Ideally, I would love to be able to write my own poetry book, but it’s unlikely that I will get that far, so my backup plan is just to be an editor,” Jiwon says. He’s pretty sure he’s sweating. How is he sweating?

Donghyuk perks up at the mention of Jiwon’s poetry.

“He won't need it. He’s truly amazing, you should ask him to share something with you,” Dongie suggests with wide eyes. Jisu looks at him hopefully.

“Oh, no no no. There’s really no need for that,” Jiwon says hastily, taking a drink from his glass.

“Well, it seems like you're truly talented. You're lucky to have such supportive friends.” Jisu leans in and blinks slowly. Jiwon leans away, a weird feeling settling in his stomach like a paperweight.

“Yes. . . please excuse me, I have to use the restroom.” Jiwon gets up from the table and walks towards the back. As the restroom door closes behind him, the sounds of conversation become muffled, and a silence washes over him.  

Jiwon has always been unnerved by the soles of his own shoes clicking on a floor. He turns on the faucet and leans on the sink, his head bowed. He wants to leave. The bathroom door opens behind him.

“Hey, you ok?” Donghyuk asks. Jiwon turns around to face him. Donghyuk’s eyes are impossibly soft.

“I think I might go. You can stay if you want, it seems like you and Hyun are hitting it off,” Jiwon tells him and sticks his hand under, waiting for it to warm.

“No, we can go. Do you want to go home or just go somewhere else?”

“It’s fine. I'm just getting a weird feeling from this place,” Jiwon assures him. Donghyuk nods.

They make their exit with an excuse about a sick friend and apologetic faces, generously paying the tab. By the time they leave _Blue Devils_ the temperature has dropped three more degrees and Jiwon really wishes he had brought gloves.

The walk a block or two before Donghyuk can't take the cold anymore. They manage to slip into a club they’d never quite seen before, hidden in between more popular storefronts.

A long staircase leads down into a huge room. It’s warm inside, and bodies pack the dance floor and bars. People watch from VIP balconies and sip impossibly colorful drinks. Donghyuk spots someone he knows and disappears into the crowd, leaving him to fend for himself. Jiwon wades through the sea of people toward the bar. There’s a mass amount of people in the building, but at least he feels like he can breathe here.

He surveys the crowd. Most of the men are wearing androgynous clothing— fishnets and cropped shirts, some eyeliner here and there. The women too, are in peg slacks and button ups, all in a wide range of colors and fabrics. It’s unconventional, like something out of the pages of _NYLON_ or _ELLE_ magazine. 

Jiwon watches a man in [ platform ](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/627478160552629902/) boots and an orange crop top order a drink, his back turned. His friend is wearing a cherry colored windbreaker. The boy in the crop top turns his head slightly, and he gets a good look. _Its Jinhwan._

Across the room, Jinhwan throws his head back and laughs at something the boy in the windbreaker says. Windbreaker leans in and places a hand on his thigh. Jiwon’s blood heats and he begins to push through the crowd. He’s about to call out his name when he sees Jinhwan grab the boy’s neck and pull him in.

Jiwon watches them kiss as if in slow motion, passionate and free and full of _feeling._ It feels like a violation to watch them; he can feel his cheeks heat up.

“Jiwon!” Someone calls his name. Jinhwan’s head snaps up and the boy he’s with turns around to look. Yunhyeong stares at him with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. Jiwon can hear his ears ringing, all of this is _too much._ Jinhwan’s expression morphs from shocked to confused to angered within seconds.

Donghyuk’s hand is on his shoulder then, and his appearance elicits more angered expressions from Jinhwan. Yunhyeong has long since ducked his head into Jinhwan’s shoulder. Jiwon feels like he’s glued to the floor.

“Hyung, I think this is a gay club,” Donghyuk says. They need to leave, now. Jiwon finds it within himself to face Donghyuk.

“Dongie, I think we should leave.” Donghyuk looks over his head, peeking around curiously. Jiwon watches his face change, and he knows that Donghyuk has spotted Jinhwan and Yunhyeong. Jiwon turns around in time to see that Jinhwan has hopped off his stool and is now stomping toward the two of them.

Behind him, Yunhyeong has his head in his hands, but he’s peeking through his fingers. Jinhwan grabs both their wrists and drags them to the bathroom. Once they’re inside, they wait for a tense moment while an older man with silver hair washes his hands, eyes Jiwon up and down in the mirror unsubtly, and leaves without a word. Once the man is gone, he takes a deep breath.

“Did you just. . . are you guys. . .” Jiwon trails off, not knowing what to say.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, following us here?” His voice is venomous and it echoes off the tiles.

Donghyuk jumps in to defend them both, “We didn't ‘follow you’ _._ We were at _Blue Devils_ and decided to leave. Stop pinning the blame on us when you’re the one who’s in a gay club, snuggled up with a drunk Yunhyeong and wearing a fucking _crop top._ ” Jinhwan heaves a sigh and leans against the counter.

“Okay, look. I think you guys should go. Just crash at the apartment and I’ll work on getting Yunhyeong home. Donghyuk, you can take Yun’s bed. We’ll talk about this in the morning.”

Jinhwan cards a hand through his hair and closes his eyes. He wants to say something, like how that’s a bad idea, or that they deserve answers, but he can’t bring himself to say it. Instead he nods his head and lets Donghyuk lead him out of the restroom, leaving Jinhwan to stare at his shoes and avoid eye contact with them.

Donghyuk lets go of him once they’re in the throng of bodies again, and he loses sight of the younger boy.

He’s almost made it through the crowd when a bartender runs straight into him and almost spills a tray full of shots onto the floor. The man is looking at his shoes, which seem to have gotten wet. He grabs Jiwon’s wrist apologetically and looks up with a flirty smile, and Jiwon’s brain short circuits because it's _Hanbin._

This night is just _full of surprises._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back from the dead!! I like this chapter and yes I will probably re-edit this later because I'm never satisfied with anything. Send me your credit card numbers @jinhwanissi on tumblr.


	4. Answer

“What the _fuck,”_ Jiwon spits, and Hanbin lets go of his wrist as if it’s burned him.

“What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here,” Hanbin hisses.

“What do you mean _I_ shouldn't be here _, you_ shouldn't be here!” Jiwon’s mother had taught him not to have public tantrums, and he feels guilty even as the anger bubbles up inside of him. Hanbin glances back at the bar where one of the bartenders is watching him while he pours a shot for a middle-aged man with a young boy on his lap.

“My boss wants me, I can't deal with this tonight. Go home,” he says, chagrined. Hanbin turns around and begins to walk away.

“You can't possibly be proud of this,” Jiwon says in a fit of unchecked rage. Hanbin’s eyes flash for a moment, and his expression goes cold. Jiwon has never seen Hanbin lose his temper before. Jiwon is vaguely aware of the fact that the crowd has pulled away from them; all the empty space feels charged.

Hanbin turns on his heel, “You don't belong here. Go home now.” He adjusts a shot glass on his tray. His face feels hot. They’ve never followed the hierarchy of age, but Jiwon feels disrespected nonetheless.

“ _And you do?”_ Jiwon says, incredulous. Hanbin glances over his shoulder.

“Yes. I do.”

* * *

 

Donghyuk and Jiwon do not speak on the way back to the apartment. They do not speak as they walk up four flights of stairs. They do not speak when Jiwon throws him a pair of old sweats and a tee shirt. They do not speak when Donghyuk turns off the light and rolls to face the wall, his back facing Jiwon.

It is late, but Jiwon knows there will be no sleeping tonight. After an hour of listening to Donghyuk’s unsteady breathing, he sits up.

“Dongie?” He says into the darkness. Donghyuk doesn't answer. “I know you're awake.” There is a slight shifting, and then Dong’s head pops up.

“What does this mean, hyung?” He sounds scared. Jiwon lives his life so independently, in this little apartment with his two best friends, cooking and cleaning and working to pay off what his scholarship doesn't cover. He forgets sometimes, that he’s young. They all are.

“I think. . . I think Yunhyeong and Jinhwan hyung might be in love,” Jiwon doesn't know what it means, now that he’s said it out loud. He watches the soft light of the bedside lamp scrape the angles of his face.

He’s lived with them for two years now, and Jiwon supposes certain things make sense. Yun goes to sleep in their shared room but always wakes up in Jinhwan’s bed. He’d always said it was because it was warmer, which is true. The heater in Yun and Jiwon’s room has been broken for almost six months now.

Some other things would make sense, too. Jinhwan, Yunhyeong, and Jiwon made an agreement when they moved in together last year, and it was this: Friday nights were Jiwon’s nights to entertain a guest in the apartment and Saturday nights were reserved for Jinhwan. If you wanted to hook up on any other night of the week, you took your business elsewhere.

Yun said he didn't need time to himself.

All three of them stuck to the rules pretty well. He knows Jinhwan, Yunhyeong, and Hanbin go bar hopping on some of his nights. On most Saturday nights, Jiwon crashed in Hanbin or Donghyuk’s bed.

Chanwoo had mentioned offhandedly that Yun always slept over on Fridays but not Saturdays. Jiwon had just assumed he had a regular hookup on those nights, someone with their own place.

Now, Jiwon wonders if the reason he didn’t need time in the apartment was because he was spending that time with Jinhwan.

It would make sense. Jiwon doesn't know where the loving part came in, but he has to assume it did. He’s never known Jinhwan to play with someone’s feelings.

Donghyuk looks up at the ceiling as they listen to the distant _drip drip drip_ of the radiator in Jinhwan’s room.

“I just don't understand—”

Jiwon interrupts him, “Donghyuk. It doesn’t matter what we understand. Jinhwan and Yunhyeong are regularly having sex, and are likely dating. Hanbin works as a bartender at a gay club. This is what we know now. These are truths.”

Donghyuk must realize that Jiwon is not going to argue with him on what they saw tonight. There is nothing to argue about. Very little of what they saw is debatable, too.

“I just want to know how long. And why they hid it,” Donghyuk says, flopping back on the bed, sounding defeated.

“We live in country that makes certain people feel like freaks. Why would they tell _anybody?”_ he asks. “I mean, you saw how well that place was hidden. We’ve been going to bars on that street for years and never even knew it existed.”

Jiwon knows how Dongie feels, he does. Some part of him just wants to punch a wall and scream, just be _angry_ at everyone. Hanbin has been his best friend since they were twelve. Jiwon is twenty one now. Hanbin has not trusted him for all of them. Jiwon knows that that’s not all there is to it. He needs to be the big brother, to understand and listen and think this through logically. So for now, he keeps his emotions in check.

“I know. It’s just a lot, I guess,” Donghyuk murmurs.

“Get some sleep. We’ll just deal with this in the morning when they get back,” Jiwon says.

Donghyuk says nothing, and Jiwon doesn’t expect him to. He needs a minute for himself. He opens the closet and pulls out a towel, in terrible need of a shower.

Jiwon turns on the faucet and sits down in the tub, the water running down his back and swirling into the drain with a mesmerizing sort of consistency. Jiwon often wonders if the chatter of his thoughts will ever stop. Steam rises off his skin, and he stays hunched over in the tub until the water runs cold.

When he steps out of the shower, he feels no different than before. He makes a move to open the door when he hears footsteps in the hallway. Then, voices.

“I feel like Jiwon is going to take it the worst.” It’s Hanbin’s voice. He sounds exhausted. It’s probably two in the morning, which means he took an eight hour shift.

“You're just projecting,” Jinhwan says, irritated.

“They would have found out sooner or later. We can't pretend that this wasn’t going to happen,” Yun’s voice echoes. He sounds significantly more sober than he was a couple hours ago.

Hanbin again, “It’s just sooner than we were prepared for.”

When the voices disappear down the hall, he turns the doorknob as slowly as he can and tiptoes to his room. Donghyuk’s breathing has long since evened out. He climbs into bed, body aching and his thoughts a distant chatter.

When he does sleep, it’s fitful.

Morning comes. The only thing that wakes him up is the smell of someone cooking breakfast in the kitchen. From the way it smells, it must be Jinhwan. Something is surely burning.

Donghyuk is not in the bedroom. He wonders if they’ve started talking already. There are voices in the living room.

When he opens the door, he does not expect to see _everyone_ here. Chanwoo is making french press, and Hanbin is still asleep on the couch. Jinhwan is cooking up something that looks like it could be scrambled eggs. Or strips of yellow paper. It’s too early to tell (Jiwon would argue that he’s not _bad_ at cooking, he just always manages to make a terrible, terrible mistake). The only person missing is Yunhyeong.

“Hey.”

Jinhwan looks up from the frying pan, then points at Junhwe, “Watch my eggs, I’ll go wake up Yunnie.” Junhwe gets up from the table and peeks over the stove. He picks up the pan and tosses the eggs a little, then opens a drawer and dumps it straight into the trash.

Donghyuk nudges Hanbin, who starts and falls off the couch in a heap. He sits up and rubs his eyes like a child. Jiwon feels like his heart might burst just watching him. His hair is sticking up in tufts, and he’s wearing his white collared shirt unbuttoned over a tank top.

“Smells like burnt rubber,” Hanbin mumbles.

“Yeah,” Jiwon says. “Jinhwan made breakfast.” Hanbin grumbles and rouses himself from the floor.

“So has anyone ordered takeout then?” Chanwoo looks up from his phone and laughs. It would be funny if the kitchen didn't smell like sulfur.

“Junhwe dumped it,” Donghyuk assures him, placing forks at each setting on the table.

“Oh. Wait fuck, you're all here. Okay,” Hanbin says. Jiwon wonders what is going through his head. Hanbin disappears into his room and comes out wearing Jiwon’s sweatpants and a tee shirt that advertises a cola company.

Yunhyeong and Jinhwan appear in the hallway.

“Please sit. I'm starving,” Jinhwan says, in his _mom voice._ Everyone sits quickly.

“I made breakfast.” Jinhwan begins to scoop fluffy white eggs onto Yunhyeong’s plate. Yun looks like his death warrant has just been signed. When Jinhwan looks up, he smiles enthusiastically.

“Try it,” Jinhwan says, gesturing encouragingly. Yunhyeong raises a fork full of eggs to his mouth, hesitantly nibbling on it.

“Oh, this is delicious. Oh wow, Jinhwan. Have you been practicing?” Yun says as he swallows.

“A little bit, when you’re not around,” Jinhwan says. “I knew baking soda would be a good substitute for salt.”

Yunhyeong chokes a little, scrambling for his glass of water.

“Calm down, hyung. I threw it out and started over,” Junhwe says, stabbing a tangerine slice. Yun wipes his mouth on his sleeve and nods.

“So, the craziest thing happened last night,” Chanwoo says, his eyes sparkling as he scoops some fruits onto his plate.

“Oh, I bet it wasn’t the _craziest_ ,” Hanbin grouses.

“Well, I was staying late at _The Daily Grind_ because I wanted to finish editing some photos for my one class, right? And I started talking to that girl we met the other day, Minjee. Anyway, we talked for like an hour during closing, and we’re gonna grab drinks next week!”

“That’s great,” Jiwon says, and the table dissolves into chatter from there. Everything feels good, normal even.

Then, “We actually asked you to be here because we have something to tell you.” Yunhyeong’s words slice through the casual atmosphere. The table quiets.

“So. . . we wanted to let you know that Yunhyeong and I are dating.”

Silence. Nobody seems particularly shocked until Chanwoo drops his fork and bellows,  “WHAT?”

“So, this is the short period of time in which I will answer any and all questions you have for us. After this, we expect you to process this and accept it. Begin,” Jinhwan says, shoveling eggs into his mouth with vigor.

“How long have you been dating?” Donghyuk asks.

“We’ve been dating for a year and a half,” Yunhyeong says casually.

Okay, he hadn’t expected them to have been together for _that_ long. A year and a half is a long time to be completely oblivious to the fact that your roommates are fucking.

“So. . . how did I not figure this out?” Jiwon wonders aloud. Junhwe taps on the table, a metronome.

“Honestly I'm not sure.” Yunhyeong says, “You fall asleep at eleven on most nights and I go to Jinan’s room. And we hold hands at the dinner table. And he calls me _yeobo_ almost as much as he calls me Yunnie. And—”

“Okay I get it, I'm blind,” he interrupts. Hanbin grins for the first time in two days, and pats his knee under the table. He lets his hand stay there, his touch warming.

Chanwoo interjects, “How did you get together?”

“We both snuck out of the apartment to the same club and bumped into each other there. While we were drunk. Things escalated, you can use your imagination to fill in the gaps,” Yunhyeong reminisces. There are a few murmurs of _no thanks_ around the table.  
“Would stand to reason,” Hanbin admits.

“So why did you hide it?”

“Well at first we were just. . . friends fooling around. But, then I started to realize that I was in love with him, and he realized the same thing. So we started dating, and now we’re really happy like this,” Jinhwan says.

Yunhyeong smiles and takes Jinhwan’s hand. Jinhwan looks up at him with soft eyes, and Jiwon wonders again how he could have missed all the signs.

Hanbin takes his hand off Jiwon’s thigh. He purses his lips, disappointed for reasons unbeknownst to even himself. The morning lifts a weight off his chest, one that he didn't know was there in the first place. Some part of him must have been worried for the response they were going to get, and what it would mean for their little group. In retrospect, it seems odd that anyone would have a problem accepting something that seems so natural, but one can never be quite sure.

Hanbin has said nothing about what _he_ was doing last night, but Jiwon decides it doesn't matter. He looks content, late morning light making him look more youthful. He’s said nothing, and yet Jiwon now understands him perfectly.

_(All the things that matter most_

_are the things we dare not speak of.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy comeback!! My absolute favorite song is Don't Forget, it's so nostalgic. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Seems like certain things are falling together... Tell me what your fav song is @jinhwanissi on tumblr.


	5. Mother

“No, I'm fine,  _ eomma,”  _ Jiwon insists, picking at the threads on his old coat. “If you send money I will return it.”

“I want you to be warm,” his mom responds, her voice tinny over the phone. “I hope you are eating well. I should take the train down. . .” 

Jiwon rolls his eyes. He wants to see his mother, but it’s too cold and she shouldn't be paying for a train ticket just to visit him. “ _ Eomma,  _ I'm okay. I promise to call more. And I’ll be coming home within the next few weeks. You just saw me a month ago for winter holiday.” 

“It’s never enough. Both of my boys never see me anymore,” she sighs, and Jiwon can just tell she’s chewing her lip raw, a family habit.

“I know. I’m sorry that I can't see you more often. I hope dad is keeping you company,” he says halfheartedly.

“I understand why you can’t come. I will just have to pester the neighbors for entertainment.” Her voice is an antidote, like drinking tea in the throes of winter. 

“I have to go now, but say hi to dad for me,” he says absently. Jiwon pushes a few boxes out of the way. 

He’s used up almost all the money he had for the month in buying a new queen-sized bed, which is supposed to deliver today. He should probably begin waiting tables again. 

“Love you.” 

“Love you,” he echoes. He hates calling his mother, even though he knows he should do it more often. He always hangs up first, feeling bad for being so distant. They’re drifting, Jiwon knows that. 

Jiwon ignores the feeling of disappointment in his stomach and tries to focus on the task at hand: moving Yunhyeong out of their room. 

About a day and a half after Jinhwan and Yunhyeong announced that they were dating, Yun had promptly decided that he would be moving out. Jinhwan and he had agreed that they would share Jinhwan’s room. 

Jiwon admittedly was a little hurt by this. When he asked why they gone through all the trouble of sneaking off into different rooms, Jinhwan just commented on how he looked like a kicked puppy even when he knew the reason for the room change. He walked away then. 

“We can help you with the bedframe,” Jinhwan shouts from the kitchen, likely feeling guilty for disappearing into his and Yun’s room for an hour. 

“I already did it.” 

Yunhyeong pokes his head in doorway, “Well then I can help you move the furniture.” 

Jiwon wants to say no, but he also wants to move the bureau to the other wall. In the end, the bureau wins. They’re just finishing up when the front door creaks open and Habin barges into the apartment and makes a beeline for his room. 

“My parents are coming into town and I need that suit I stashed here. I need it now,” Hanbin demands. He gives Jiwon a quick nod and starts to rifle through the closet, which is a lot more barren without Yun’s clothes. He whips out a dry cleaning bag and throws it on the chair. He digs around a little more and tosses another on top of it. 

“Wait. . .” Jiwon says. 

Jinhwan sets a basket of laundry down on the coffee table and says, “I’ll grab the steamer.” 

Yunhyeong sets a potted plant on Jiwon’s shelf and goes to get the iron.

“Bobby, come with me,” Hanbin says. Jiwon’s head snaps up so fast he hears his neck crack. He sounds commanding, but there’s a glint of desperation in his eye. He weighs his options.

“Okay.” 

Hanbin visibly relaxes, releasing a deep breath and unclenching his hands. 

Hanbin checks the clock on the bedside table. “We have to leave at five if we wanna get to Hakko on time. So we have a couple minutes,” he decides, rubbing his hands together vigorously. 

“No. The restaurant is close to here, and if you go too early you're gonna drink at the bar and that's not good for any of us. We’ll leave at 5:15. My mattress is coming in like. . . ten, so we’ll do that and then we can shower together.”

“Um. . . how about the movers handle the bed and I’ll shower now,” Hanbin says, already halfway down the hall. Jiwon can't help but feel like Hanbin is running from him. 

The movers come and go, and Jiwon finds himself putting a fitted sheet on the bed alone. 

Hanbin returns, towel low on his hips. He smells of sandalwood and lilac. There’s an impossibly intimate connotation that comes with someone smelling like your soap, Jiwon thinks distractedly. He feels the unexpected urge to reach out and and caress his hipbone, the warmth of his skin inviting. 

“Go shower, we’re gonna be late,” Hanbin says, already irritated. 

“Bin. Everything is going to be fine,” He says patiently, smoothing the covers on his bed. 

Hanbin looks up from a drawer, where he’s rooting around for cufflinks. He seems as if he’s caught by surprise . He bites his lip and continues to rifle through Jiwon’s drawers. 

“Okay. I’ll shower. Get ready and calm down. Make Yunhyeong boil some tea for you or something,” Jiwon said, trying to curb Hanbin’s despondency, which feels like a moot point. 

He showers as quickly as he can and tries to dry his hair with Jinhwan’s blow dryer. Jiwon soon realizes that it’s harder than he makes it look, but after a couple of minutes he gets the hang of it. He grabs a pot of mousse for Hanbin as he exits the bathroom. 

Hanbin is humming a Loona song, an old one. 

“I'm so anxious, but I really like you. . . I want you to love me,” Hanbin’s voice drifts into the hall. Hanbin sings softly, a tired cadence to his tone. It’s endearing. He crosses the room and pushes the mousse across the bureau to Hanbin, who dips a hand in the jar and continues to hum. 

Jiwon dresses quickly, Hanbin’s humming the only sound piercing through the silence. He straightens his jacket and looks at himself in the mirror, narrowing his eyes a little. Jiwon fumbles with his cufflinks for a minute before Hanbin takes pity on him. He comes over and lays a hand on Jiwon’s, who offers them to Hanbin. Jiwon watches as his brow furrows, pushing the links through his sleeves carefully. 

When he’s finished, he exhales, “There. We’re ready.” 

Before they fly out the door, Yunhyeong stops them and insists on taking a picture. 

“The two of you look so dapper, like businessmen. Or kings. Come on, just one,”  Jinhwan whines, a polaroid camera in his hand. Yunhyeong snaps a picture of them on his phone and Jinhwan fusses with the polaroid before they finally let them go, sending them off with a wave. Hanbin rolls his eyes. Jiwon slides his wallet into his back pocket and shrugs on his nicest coat. 

He’s mostly doing this for Hanbin, but he does miss the Kim family a lot. They walk in silence, faces buried in the collars of their coats. Jiwon wants to reach out and hold his hand, provide him with some sort of comfort. But, he knows it will only make Hanbin more agitated. 

The restaurant is nice, spacey. It’s mostly for expensive dates and business transactions. Knowing Kim Jeong Ju, this interaction is probably the latter. Hanbin talks to the hostess about their reservation, and she leads them to a table in the dining room. They're the first to arrive, which makes Hanbin’s shoulders relax just a little. Jiwon surveys the people around them, in expensive silks and flashy jewelry. He feels out of place, but he’s glad Jiwon bought him a custom suit for his birthday. His old one from graduation was beginning to show signs of wear.

Hanbin catches sight of his family approaching their table. He stands up and pushes his chair in shakily, bowing deeply to his father. Jiwon does the same and shakes his hand.

“Jiwon, it’s been quite a while. I hope you have been staying healthy,” Jeong Ju says, his chin tilted up ever so slightly.   
“Yes, _Ajeossi.”_ Jiwon says before turning his attention to Hanbin’s mother who’s fanning her face and smiling brightly. 

“Oh, my boys all in one place! How has my little Bobby been? Treating Hanbin well?” she exclaims, reaching up to pinch his cheek affectionately. Hanbyul hangs by her side, quiet. She’s a demure child, and much more mature than most kids her age. 

Bobby was a strange nickname that he had somehow adopted years ago, the origin hazy and unidentifiable. It was rarely used outside of Hanbin’s family, an inside joke started by Hanbin and his mother that had eventually come to Jiwon’s attention. 

“I treat him too well,  _ Ajumma,”  _ He says. It’s informal to call her as such, but Jiwon never truly grew out of it. 

Hanbyul tugs on his hand, beckoning him. “ _ Oppa,  _ I want to tell you a secret.” Jiwon leans down so she can whisper in his ear, “I missed you and Hanbin- _ oppa  _ a lot.” 

Jiwon’s lips stretch into a smile so wide he feels like his cheeks have cracked. “I missed you too,” he tells her, tousling her hair. Jiwon watches carefully as Hanbin speaks with his father, careful to watch for changes in his rigid posture. 

When they sit, a waitress comes over to place an order for beverages. Jiwon silently thanks God that they arrived just before the Kims got here, because Hanbin would have surely gone to drink at the bar. He’s not typically much of a drinker, but he is when he wants to calm his nerves. 

Jiwon remembers a particularly embarrassing incident that happened in Hanbin’s first year of university. They had been at a restaurant not unlike this one with Jiwon’s family included and Hanbin had insisted on arriving twenty minutes early. He had four glasses of wine, and by the time the rest of their party had arrived, Hanbin was halfway wasted and not trying to hide it. He tripped over his words all night, and his disasterly state ended when he left to vomit in the men’s restroom. 

Needless to say, Hanbin doesn't drink much in front of his father anymore. 

“I’ll stick with water, please,” Hanbin says, flashing a tight lipped smile at the wait staff. She nods and scribbles on her pad, taking their orders one by one. 

Hanbin’s mother orders for all of them, rattling off dishes of sushi. They typically ate family style, and they always bought enough to take home. The adults kindly let Hanbin and Jiwon take the leftovers at the end of the night, always cracking a joke about broke college students. 

Which must be funny to them, with their summer home and expensive cars and expensive watches, but it’s far less funny to Jiwon’s family. They had to work hard for a decent living, and he relied on scholarships and student loans to finance his tuition. 

He tries hard not to let it soak into his skin.  _ Ajumma  _ is cognizant of his family’s status, having been friends with his mother for so long. She’s always here to reign Kim Jeong Ju in if he gets too cocky. Plus, it is bad energy, to think in such a way. Jiwon is truly grateful for all that God had given him. 

By the time their food arrives, the table has lapsed into comfortable conversation. Hanbyul talks quietly about the moon phases while Hanbin nods in earnest. Jiwon tries to keep up with Jeong Ju and  _ Ajumma  _ as they talk about Korea’s foreign relations. Jiwon is glad to stuff a scallion roll into his mouth. It’s better than sticking his foot in it, which is what he’s been doing all night. 

“ _ Abeoji,  _ Hanbin- _ oppa  _ says he’s learning to play the piano! Can I visit him so he can teach me?” Hanbyul says around a cheekful of sushi. Hanbin’s face flushes. 

“I'm sure Hanbin has a lot to do. He is very busy with school, isn't that right Hanbin?” There is a dangerous edge to Jeong Ju’s voice, and  _ Ajumma  _ must hear it, because she places a hand over top of her husbands. 

“Yes, of course. I’ve been keeping my grades well. I land in the top ten percent of all my classes,” Hanbin’s voice wavers, and if it were anybody but him, he would have missed it. Jiwon lets his hand fall under the table to squeeze Hanbin’s thigh. He lets out a shaky breath. 

“Well, I'm glad to hear that. Once you graduate with the highest honors in your class, I expect you to transfer to an international sector of the family business,” Jeong Ju states callously, taking a sip of water.

“Our headquarters in Hong Kong have agreed to mentor you for four years,” he ads. Hanbin’s face blanches, and Jiwon can practically feel his spine go rigid. 

He takes a moment to regain his composure, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. He half expects to see blood blossom on the white cloth. 

“Of course.” 

“Is everyone enjoying their meal?” A waiter asks, glancing around the table and surveying the tense atmosphere that had permeated the light mood. 

“I’ll take a glass of wine now. Whatever you recommend,” Hanbin says before shoving a roll into his mouth. The waiter scurrys away to do his bidding. Jiwon sighs. He was a fool to think that this night would go smoothly. 

When the wait staff sets the glass of wine in front of Hanbin, Jiwon switches it with his water despite the aggressive glare he gets for it. It’s for the best. Maybe all of this is. 

_ (The world should’ve been better to you. _

_ It’s a shame that a pearl like you is stuck in the sand.) _

Hanbin slams the door to their apartment in a fit of aggression. He’s seething, clenching and unclenching his fists. 

“Hanbin, it’s —  it’s two years away. You still have time,” Jiwon says. He flops face down on the couch.

“Oh, like you would understand! You're paying for your own damn education, living life by your own rules,  _ you have choices!”  _ Hanbin’s yelling now, opening the freezer and tearing it apart in search of ice cream. Jiwon scoots himself upright and shoots a glare in his direction. 

“That’s not fair. You know it isn't,” Jiwon argues. He has to stay in his major or he loses his scholarship.

“But you do. I mean, my whole life is figured out for me. It’s ridiculous.  _ Four years  _ in Hong Kong? I’ll be thirty by them time I complete my masters. I'm going to  _ die  _ doing this,” he moans, jamming his spoon into a pint of ice cream. 

It would be a dramatic statement if it weren't true. One day, Hanbin will take over his father’s tech company, and he will do so until he dies. Sometimes Hanbin’s resentment ate him alive, but he couldn't do anything about it. It was part of their culture. Hanbin’s unhappiness is a small price to pay for their economic welfare of their family. 

As much as Jiwon has had to work for his success, at least it’s  _ his.  _ Hanbin must feel like a fraud, entering university on his father's dime, owning a company he didn't create. 

In an ideal world, Hanbin wouldn't have to major in two subjects he has no passion for. He would have choices, the terrifying but exciting prospect of an uncertain future. He wouldn’t have to hide away parts of himself. But this is not an ideal world.

There are no dreams, only responsibility. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jiwon's poetry is going to come from a lot of iKON's lyrics btw. Thanks for reading!!


	6. Midnight

Jiwon is in the elevator on his way to the maknaes’ dorm when the lights begin to flicker. His heart jumps in his throat as he is plunged into darkness. The elevator continues to move regardless.

When the doors open, the hallways of the dorm room are deserted. The sound of locks clicking resonate in the silent dormitory. Half the lights in the hall have been taped over with black tarp, and the other half flicker gently.

He moves slowly, quietly to the maknaes’ dorm, making as little noise as possible. When he arrives, there is a black flash drive taped to the door. He peels it off and unlocks the door, slamming it shut and sliding the deadbolt.

“Its begun!” He says, stumbling into the room, breathless, “Guys, it’s begun. It’s begun.”

In the distance, there is a crash. Then, they all begin to filter into the room. Chanwoo brings his laptop and sets it on the desk in the common room. He snatches the stick out of Jiwon’s hand and inserts it into the port. On the flash drive, there is a single file.

The video loads, and they all peer at a dark screen. A man in a black hood and white mask appears. After a moment of tense silence, he begins to speak.

“The rules are as follows: shooting naked skin, eyes, or sensitive areas will result in disqualification. Destruction of personal or school property will result in disqualification. The taking of hostages will result in disqualification. If all team members have been shot, your team is disbanded. The objective is clear: destroy the opposing teams, before they destroy you.” The video cuts to static.

Junhwe leans over to desk and draws the blinds, Hanbin disappearing into his room to do the same.

“They’ve outdone themselves this year,” Chanwoo notes, shutting his laptop and sliding a plastic bin out from under the couch. ‘They’ as in the secret collective of senior political science majors on campus. It was a tradition that began long ago, and is considered the most incredible week in the history of Kyung Hee University.

Every dorm is a team, and each building is a court. The objective is to kill every player in a team and claim their team flag. The team with the most flags wins. For the next week, walking between classes will become the most dangerous part of going to school. It’s just a game, but _everybody_ takes it seriously, and each year the seniors outdo themselves.

Hanbin unrolls a blueprint of the dorm floor from the year before. “Operation Half Moon is now in effect. We've been preparing for this since February of last year,” He says, his eyebrows already knitted together.

“Chanu give me the stats from last year,” he demands, throwing the team notebook in Chanwoo’s general direction. Jiwon huffs at the sight of his business face and digs around in the box for his paint gun. All of their guns are baby blue, with the words ALLKILL written on it in capital letters. They were nothing if not incredibly ironic.

Chanwoo flips it open to the page, “Six teams on this floor. The only two we should be weary of is Team Foxtrot, who had two dorms on this floor. The other is Team Genesis, who also had two dorms. We had the other two.”

Donghyuk looks up from where he’s opening soft paintball packages with his teeth. They’re not _real_ paintballs, perse. They’re children’s paintballs, so they don't hurt, but they require closer range and a steady hand.

“I can ask Yunhyeong to retrieve the class schedules of each member of the teams from the server. I'm sure he’s good for it,” Jiwon said, loading paintballs into guns.

“Are Jinhwan and Yun doing it this year?”

“Nah, I think they’ll enjoy having the apartment to themselves for a week, you know,” Jiwon smiled serenely as a chorus of gagging noises follow his statement.

“Okay, our strategy from last year worked really well. Pull out those suits, boys, we’re blending in as professors. I think I still have grey hairspray,” Hanbin says. Chanwoo picks up a can and flips it before spraying it into Hanbin’s hair.

Hanbin yelps and swats at Chanu, who is scooting himself away from Hanbin’s flailing hands. He lunges for Chanwoo at the same time he scrambles off the couch, and Hanbin flops down onto the vinyl face first.

Everything feels normal, like every moment in Jiwon’s life fits into a slot like a jigsaw puzzle.

The echoes of laughter bounce off the walls as they prepare for a Kyung Hee winter tradition, and Jiwon feels that he’s in the presence of family.

_(I did not know love could be bloodless,_

_devoid of expectation.)_

Junhwe takes this a little too seriously, as he did last year, leaving the room only to return in full camouflage that he must have dug up from someone’s costume party bin.

“If you lose this for me. . . I will murder you and rule your death a suicide,” he says emotionlessly, popping a paintball between his thumb and forefinger. He lets the green paint ooze and pool into his palm before taking two fingers and smearing it across his cheeks like a sasquatch hunter that didn't take his meds.

Donghyuk’s eyes widen to the size of dinner plates at the sight of Junhwe dripping paint on the floor.

“I'm one _hundred_ percent sure that's not what a criminologist does,” Chanwoo insists. Junhwe ignores him, placing his hands on his hips and striking a power pose, the typically mature aura  of Junhwe in day-to-day life gone. He points his gun at Hanbin and squints as if looking through an imaginary scope.

“Ah, look. I'm pointing a gun at students. Do I look american now?” Junhwe asks playfully.

Chanwoo chuckles lightly at that. Hanbin rouses himself and announces that he’s going to grab groceries for the week since it’s clearly too dangerous to venture out to the dining hall twice a day.

“And Jiwon is coming with me,” he says. Jiwon points at his own chest, bewildered.

“Why me?” He whines, picking at the loose threads on his pants.

“Because you're strong and it’s going to be a lot of food. And I’ll let you push the cart.”

He pops up at that. “Okay!”

Donghyuk murmurs something about him being soft for Hanbin, which is true enough that Jiwon doesn’t have it in him to argue. It’s never bothered him before, it certainly won't now.

They leave the dorm in a whirlwind, and shut the door behind them. Despite Junhwe’s wild outfit, there is really no point in camo or elaborate disguises just yet. Everyone is too busy planning.

“I want the grapefruits,” Jiwon says, holding a heavy yellow grapefruit in his hand like it’s the sun.

“No, they’re not in-season.” Hanbin says, distracted by the plumbs instead, gently tapping each one in the display to test for firmness. He has a list in his other hand, as if the smartphone has not been invented yet.

Hanbin scoops five of the best plumbs into a cloth sac and tosses it haphazardly into the cart. Jiwon wonders what the point of inspecting fruit is if you're just going to bruise it anyway. A poorly dressed college student with an unshaved face would not strike the typical supermarket shopper as an eco-friendly guy, but Hanbin insisted on using his own cloth sacs instead of the plastic bags provided. At least it gave Jiwon a good laugh.

By the time they venture into the cereal aisle, their cart is starting to fill up. Chanwoo enjoys eating cereal for breakfast, a wholly american thing to do. Hanbin sweeps three boxes of almond flakes into the cart.

He turns to the coffee and considers the prices of each package, paying no attention to Jiwon who is sniffing as many bags as possible.

“You're a a twenty one year old man in a grocery store, not an untrained puppy,” Hanbin says irritatedly, not glancing up once.

Hanbin has been distant ever since that night at the club, and it’s starting to get under his skin. He’ll act like they're fine one moment and then snap at Jiwon the next, like he’s trying to draw a line between them.

He’s been waiting for Hanbin to make the first move and talk about it when he’s ready, but the breakfast aisle of a supermarket at four in the afternoon seems as good a time as any. Jiwon takes a deep breath.

“Hanbin. I want my knowledge of this part of your life to be a burden off your shoulders, not another weight. All I have ever wanted is happiness for you,” Jiwon says softly to the coffee beans.

“I know,” Hanbin says to the instant espresso tins. “I was just afraid. You are so much of myself.” He doesn't elaborate, but Jiwon knows exactly what he means to say.

_(Without you, what am I?_

_I try to overcome this pain that God gave me._

_I share my flesh and blood with you,_

_cut myself open for you.)_

Jiwon turns and looks at Hanbin. Even in the fluorescent lights and an oversized  sweater, he is beautiful. The lines of his face, the veins of his hands remind Jiwon of calligraphy. Hanbin reaches out to hug him and Jiwon can't remember the last time he felt so warm. Safe. Loved.

⤰ ⤰ ⤰

Midnight, Jiwon thinks, is a strange time to be alive. He’s been awake for hours.

_You are so much of myself._

Jiwon had never been in love before. He’d had two girlfriends in high school, and while he had liked both of them for however fleeting a time they were dating, neither one had ever stuck in his mind for too long after that. To Jiwon, love is something he can't afford to give away.

Love is helping his mother cook dinner on christmas eve and licking red bean paste out of _Gyeongju_ bread. Love is forcing his father and brother into getting matching tattoos, chosen from a poem he had written in his high school literature class.  
Love is getting drunk but knowing Donghyuk and Junhwe care about him enough to drag him up four flights of stairs to his apartment.  Love is falling asleep in Chanwoo’s lap every movie night, and cooking with Yunhyeong and Jinhwan at three in the morning when all of them are too wired to sleep.

Love is Hanbin, his eyes shining with something like starlight, flashing that smile he only wears when he thinks nobody's looking. Love is tangling Hanbin’s fingers with his own and reveling in how right it feels to be next to him.

_Holy shit._

Jiwon kicks the covers off his body, and rolls off his bed. He hastily pulls on a pair of track pants and swings the door open to stumble into Jinhwan’s room, his heart beating like he’d just run a marathon.

“Jinhwan. Wake up.” Jinhwan cracks a single eye open, hostile from being shaken awake in the middle of the night. Yunhyeong shifts in the bed but doesn’t wake up. “How do you know if you’re in love with someone?”

He pushes himself into a sitting position. The first words out of his mouth are, “What the fuck, Jiwon? It’s like, three in the morning.”

“It’s midnight,” Jiwon corrects. “How do you know when you’re in love with someone?”

Jinhwan, as far as Jiwon knew, had been in serious relationships, even before Yunhyeong. Jinhwan spends so much time expressing his feelings it drives Jiwon insane sometimes. If Jinan felt it, he told you so.

The only way Jiwon has ever articulated his feelings is on paper, the truth hidden inside metaphors and wrapped up in similes until his emotions all but disappear on the page. Sometimes he has to remind himself that how he feels isn’t up for interpretation like everything else is.

“Why the hell would you need to know that? Is this about that Jooeun girl you're always on about? Isn’t she dating someone”Jinhwan rubs his eyes, sleep still slurring his speech.

Jiwon doesn't answer and opts for kicking his bedpost with a socked foot. It would be easier to let him draw his own conclusions than it would be to tell Jinhwan that he might possibly-probably be in love with _Kim Hanbin._

“Okay, sit,” he says, patting the bedspread in front of him. He sits. “Why are you asking me this?”

Jiwon grapples with that question, twisting Jinan’s blanket between his fists. He shrugs, which warrants a look from Jinhwan that indicates he doesn't quite believe him.

“It’s different for everybody. I fell in love with Yunhyeong because he’s my best friend, and I want to spend my life with him. Maybe even longer than that,” Jinhwan whispers, looking over at Yun’s sleeping form with soft eyes.

“I'm not like. . . uh, sexually attracted to them.” Jiwon’s voice cracks. He closes its mouth.

“Well, I was sexually attracted to Yunhyeong but I didn't know I loved him until much later. Love—even romantic love—is not always about sex. It’s about. . .” Jinhwan trails off,glancing at his boyfriend’s sleeping form. “Well I guess I would put it like this: he  never lets me go to sleep wondering if I matter,” Jinhwan’s voice falters and he closes his eyes for a brief moment.

_(To love a brother_

_is to walk the line between heaven and earth.)_

Jiwon doesn't _know_ how he feels. He tells himself that it’s hard to tell the difference between familial love and romantic love. Is there a difference at all?

Jiwon and Habin had always blurred the lines between love and friendship. They grew up together, had known each other for nine years.

The two of them were a flurry of bruised knees and drunken secrets and summers underwater. They were brothers and best friends and soulmates. Jiwon and Hanbin had blurred the lines before they had even known there was a line.

Jinhwan dropped a hand on his shoulder and shook him a little. “I think you’ll know when you know,” Jinhwan said.

“But what if I don't?” Jiwon whined.

“Well then how do you feel about this person?” he asked, flopping back onto his pillow. Yunhyeong stirs a little but doesn't wake.

“I don't know. It's just. . .”

It’s just that Jiwon wants to swallow him whole, consume him. It’s just that at night, when he’s alone, all he can see is Hanbin, and all he knows is Hanbin, and all he tastes is Hanbin. It’s just that his heart isn’t his anymore.  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for waiting!! Now that it's summer, I'm going to update much more frequently. Also, the poems are mostly lyrics from Bobby's Love and Fall that i alter and add to in order to make it fit to the chapter. Hire me as a hitman @jinhwanissi on tumblr!!


	7. Shatter

The lobby of the business building has a board that broadcasts constant a stream of stock prices in real time, and Jiwon watches the numbers scroll by emotionlessly from across the room. He stares, mesmerized by the patterns of green and red, the world run by numbers and money and godless men. Kospi, red. Djia, green. Nasdaq, green. KYM, red. Down fourteen points. KYM was the company that Hanbin’s father ran, and fourteen points was a lot. Scandal worthy. 

Jiwon rouses himself from the chair, leather creaking under him in relief. He should talk to Hanbin. Jiwon can picture his face now, phone in hand, speaking to his father in hushed tones by the window, trying not to disturb the other boys. Jiwon can just imagine his lip quivering as his father explains the drop in stock and how they are going to go about it. What their next move is. Jiwon knows that Hanbin making suggestion that falls on deaf ears, not quite soulless enough to make effective business decisions. 

There is no way to get across campus without being hit by paintballs from a window. What is supposed to be the most fun annual activity on campus is quickly becoming a nuisance for Jiwon. 

Jiwon had to run back to the dorm as he was shamefully pelted by paintballs, the spray turning the back of his sweatshirt into a jackson pollock painting. When the elevator opens on the maknae’s floor, the soles of his shoes squelch with paint that has run down his leg. 

He squishes down the hallway gingerly and turns the key in the door. Jiwon hangs up his sweatshirt on the coat rack in the hallway and kicks off his shoes, which leaves a smear of pink paint on the tile floor. 

In the living room, Hanbin is sitting on the couch eating chewy candies and scrolling his phone, humming that Loona song again. 

“Hanbin-ah, have you heard from your father recently?” Jiwon asks. 

“No. Oh my god, you're covered in paint! I can't believe you did this. And you're tracking paint all over to floor. Take off your socks,” Hanbin chastises. He’s in a good mood. Jiwon has half a heart to let him be oblivious.

“Hanbin. . . KYM stock has dropped fourteen points.” Jiwon winces at the sound of Hanbin’s phone clattering onto the coffee table. 

“fourteen or zero point one-four?”

“Fourteen.” 

The color drains from Hanbin’s face. His spine goes straight and his gaze grows cold. 

“Hanbin-ah. I just. . . I'm here,” Jiwon breathes, feeling defeated. He waits a beat for the room to sigh, ease the tension. Jiwon glances at the shadow of Hanbin’s body on the couch, then turns on his heel and retreats to the shower.

Jiwon stands under the scalding hot water for twenty minutes, maybe longer. He tries to ignore all of the emotions bubbling just beneath the surface of his skin, restless. To feel weightless, untethered, is the one thing Jiwon can never stop wishing for himself. 

When he steps into the living room, Hanbin is exactly where Jiwon left him half an hour ago, spine rigid with unease. He is staring at his phone as if it is the one great enigma of his lifetime, unsolvable. 

He doesn't even look over at Jiwon before he says, “He should have called by now.” 

“Perhaps it’s not important enough. Or he could simply be too busy to call you,” Jiwon reassures him.

“He calls me when his stock so much as quivers,” Hanbin says flatly. 

Kim Jeong Ju is always sure to call his son and explain in great detail their plan to attack every single problem the company has in order to file Hanbin away into a perfect CEO. There is clearly no comforting Hanbin.

The day has stretched into afternoon when Hanbin’s phone rings. It’s his mother. Hanbin reaches for it but allows his hand to hover in mid air, hesitant. 

He accepts the call and greets his mother. Tense silence follows. Hanbin gets up and moves to his room, kicking a confused Chanwoo out. The soft click of the lock on the door is the last sound anyone hears for fifteen minutes. 

By this time Chanwoo, Junhwe, and Donghyuk have gathered on the couch, hands in their laps as they wait for news.

Jiwon keeps repeating in his head,  _ it could be nothing, it could be nothing, it could be nothing.  _ But it doesn't  _ feel  _ like nothing. It feels like something. Like too much.

The door creaks open and Hanbin stands in the doorway, phone in hand. 

“My father has been arrested.” 

The impact of such a statement rattles the foundation of the building. Jiwon is once again reminded of how foolish he was to think that Hanbin’s family was invincible because they have money. It’s common knowledge campuswide that Hanbin's father is Kim Jeong Ju **.** Hanbin doesn’t flaunt it in any sort of way, though. 

He wears ratty two-three year old clothes, the same sneakers he’s had since high school, and pays for most of his own things. Nevertheless, there is a trust with Hanbin’s name on it with enough money to ensure that he never work a day in his life, never pay a dime for his education, or even have to venture outside of the comfort of the Kim’s Sweet Plum Manor (a name neither Jiwon nor Hanbin can ever say without rolling their eyes). 

Nobody wants to ask why, but the question lingers in the stale air. 

“He was caught embezzling money from the company. Bail is set at six hundred million won,” Hanbin says, placing the phone on the table with a clatter. Hanbin must feel like his world is falling apart. 

There’s a rumor that rich men fill the holes in their children’s hearts with money. Jiwon allows himself to look at Hanbin with pity just this once, long enough to know that it’s true.

Hanbin does not have much of a relationship with his father, but his father had entrusted him with his most prized possession. KYM Freetech was, in the eyes of Kim Jeong Ju, his firstborn child. It is a burden that Hanbin is forced to bear, but it is also the only true sign of love between the father and son. With the core of their relationship destroyed, Jiwon does not know whether or not they can recover the fragments of such a fragile thing. 

Jiwon knows he has resented his father ever since they were kids. Back in middle school, when their friendship was still new, they rarely met at his family’s manor. Of course, Jiwon never took him to his own double wide trailer either, so they mostly met in an old stablehouse in the meadow behind Hanbin’s house to trade pokemon cards and talk about why the universe was so big why they were the only things inhabiting it.

There had never been a reason  _ not  _ to resent his father, in Hanbin’s eyes. He’s a man who was absent for most of his childhood, his wild infidelity preventing any real reparations within their family, especially with his mother. Hanbyul is the only thing Hanbin had ever considered a redeeming factor in his relationship with Jeong Ju, though he had burned that bridge quickly. Jiwon and Hanbin had been there for her birth. Kim Jeong Ju had not. 

On the few occasions Jiwon has seen him, it was easy to surmise that he was not the involved and loving father Jiwon had grown up with. Kim Jeong Ju is a classic rich businessman, the kind of man who thinks money can compensate for love. So, when they got the phone call from Bin’s mother saying her husband had been charged with embezzlement and would likely spend the next few years in jail, nobody had been quite as upset as they should have been.

Jiwon sits on the couch with Hanbin nestled between his legs, his head on his stomach. Jiwon plays with his soft hair, absently staring at a spot across the room, half listening to Hanbin ramble on with a masked sort of nervousness.  

“I don't get it. How the  _ fuck  _ did I not know?” Hanbin asks rhetorically. Yunhyeong watches them from a corner, sipping his tea with his eyebrows permanently raised in some type of judgmentally surprised expression.

“Is it crazy to think that I should have known?” he asks again, and Jiwon grunts at that. 

“How would you have known?” Chanwoo says, shifting on the seat. “It’s not like you ever had a good relationship with him, and even if you did, it’s not like he’d pull you aside and be like, ‘damn son, look at all this money I embezzled from my company and unknowing citizens! Bet you think I'm a stellar dad now!’” He makes a hand motion to emphasize his point, and Donghyuk snorts. 

Jinhwan emerges from the kitchen armed with steaming mugs, Junhwe on his tail. “I know you’re blaming yourself for this, but you really shouldn't.” 

Hanbin sinks lower into Hanbin’s lap, and Jiwon knows what he wants to say.  _ I don't know how.  _ He strokes the younger’s hair, pulling lightly at his scalp the way he likes. Hanbin peers into the mug Jinhwan offers to him and takes a sip. 

Chanwoo takes a white t shirt and opens the window, wedging it between the pane and the frame to signal their forfeit from the game. Nothing was more important than Hanbin, ever. 

Hanbin spends the first day in a daze, attached to Jiwon’s hip. He looks lost all the time now. He watches Hanbin go to the bathroom to brush his teeth, and then come out only a moment later and sit on a chair in the common room. He seems to remember what he’s doing, and goes back into the bathroom. Then the shower turns on. Jiwon sighs and turns away. 

He goes to where the boys are sitting on Chanwoo’s bed by the window, afternoon light streaming in. 

“I'm taking him home,” Jiwon says without looking at them. He starts to pull textbooks from his shelf.

“Woah woah woah, did you check with his mother? You know that his father will make bail,” Donghyuk’s apprehensive voice cuts through the buzzing in his head. He slings clothes into a duffel bag, shaking his head. 

“Not the manor. The apartment.” 

“We can take care of him here, you know,” Chanwoo interjects. His shifting on the mattress makes the springs groan in protest.  

“He’s losing himself,” Junhwe mutters, rubbing his face. “Don't you think the best thing is for him to be here, where he’s familiar?” 

Jiwon doesn't think that. He thinks that Hanbin needs to be as close to him as possible, close enough so Jiwon can keep an eye on him at all times. Although Hanbin’s future was full bleak grey office buildings and expensive neckties, at least it was planned. The comforting (if not constricting) certainty of Hanbin’s life  has been ripped away. He has nothing. 

Jiwon continues to pack, ignoring the stifling silence of the three boys behind him. He doesn't know if they don't argue because they agree or because they know it's not worth it. Either way, he doesn't care. Once he’s filled Hanbin’s duffle with clothes, he sets it with his backpack by the door. He looks down at his phone.

 

_ 1 Unread Message from  _ **_Hyung Apartment_ **

Jinhwan: Turn on the news. . . 

Jiwon: We saw. Hanbin is staying with us for a few weeks. Can you come pick us up at the dorm? 

Jinhwan: On my way

 

Now they wait. Jiwon finds Hanbin standing in front of the microwave with a cup of tea in his hand, staring off into space. He takes the cup gently from him and sets it down on top of the microwave. 

“I'm going back to the apartment. Come with me.” Its gentle, but not a question. 

Hanbin nods and pulls at the strings of his sweatshirt. Jiwon sighs and gestures for Hanbin to put on his shoes, slinging a backpack and duffel bag over his shoulder.

He pokes his head in Chanwoo’s room. “He’ll be back soon.” they respond with tight lipped nods. 

Jinhwan’s car is old, and he hardly ever uses it. It’s idling in the fire lane when Jiwon arrives with Hanbin in tow. Jinhwan steps out of the car and takes the bags from him. Jiwon threads their fingers together and leads him to the car. They get in just as the boot slams shut. The sounds is accompanied by a flash of light, probably from the sun glinting off the car’s exterior. Hanbin winces at the sound and tucks his head in the crook of Jiwon’s shoulder.

They peel away from the building, running away from one problem and into the arms of the next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I know I post so often ^_^ Talk to me @jinhwanissi on tumblr!


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